Islanded in a Stream of Stars
by Fairybolt
Summary: The Mass Effect series as told through the eyes of an Alliance marine assigned as the executive officer on the Normandy following the attack on Eden Prime. This ongoing serial is a first person tale by Amy Costigan, the quiet, reflective counterbalance to the charismatic Commander John Shepard.


There's this place back home where I used to go to as a girl. I grew up in this small town along the coast of Maine where prosperity was leveraged out of the tourists who came for a slice of what they thought was a simpler life in a corner of the New World forgotten by time. A few centuries back there was a thriving fishing industry too, but now with the North Atlantic over fished the new quotas are cost prohibitive for anything but charter fishing and capturing lobster to send off world. Genuine Maine lobster is all the rage on Illium this season, I'm told.

So, town is all tourist. An Irish pub where you can get a Guinness or a Harp because everyone from here came from that island, cottages and small hotels along a public beach sprinkled with soft shell stands, and a marina that is built with authentic Maine timber and lined with old diesel fishing boats with timeless, folksy names. But, get away from the docks and public beaches and it sort of is actually like stepping back in time. In the winter the tide strips the beaches of snow, and in the sun it is bone white. Go early enough and it's a deep beige instead, lost in the mist-like morning fog that rolls from the sea and takes the coast in its misty fingers. At night, if you walk far enough, the lights from town fade, and you can see the entire galaxy arrayed out across the horizon.

Nothing special, mind, since you can find the same thing in a million different spots on a million different planets, but it was a spot where you could sit and think and stare into nothing. As an adult, I find myself often drifting back to those times where I sat on that beach. Nostalgia maybe, particularly since I hadn't been back to Earth in a few years, let alone Maine, but I find my focus there. Still, I'm always on that beach when I drift, and that's where I was on Ambassador Donnel Udina's office couch, with my cane between my legs, half listening to his discussion with Captain David Anderson of the Systems Alliance Navy about how to best help – and in Udina's case, control – the latest hot topic on the Citadel - the first human Spectre, Commander John Shepard.

"I know Shepard well enough to know that he's going to think you're throwing me over," Anderson said. He seemed more concerned about this fact rather than the notion that Udina was proposing stripping him of command of the Alliance's newest toy – a frigate called the Normandy.

"Right, well, he's going to have to get over it." Udina shrugged absently, though his tone betrayed the same perpetual annoyance that characterized most of his conversations. I'd been working under him long enough to know the man's moods, and "annoyed" seemed to be his most preferred state. "Besides," he said, "you agree that this is the best option."

Anderson sighed. "I do, but it's not going to look good."

"It looks better than allowing you to retain command given your history with Saren." Anderson colored and I came back to the conversation enough to glance between them. "We're facing an immediate crisis in the Attican Traverse. There are rumors of geth on Noveria and our colony on Feros has stopped checking in. We don't have time for a light touch or to nurse the feelings of the man we're sending into this mess."

Anderson folded his arms and exasperation. I watched him for a long moment, and then he shook his head with a sigh. "Fine, right, I agree. So, let's get it over with then."

"There's one other lead, Captain," Udina shot back. He turned his gaze towards me, and Anderson followed suit. "You know Lieutenant Commander Amy Costigan?"

"By reputation," Anderson said coolly. I immediately understood. In this conversation I was suspect, an unknown introduced as Udina's underling. I felt a mild stab of anger, mostly at Udina, but smiled anyway.

"Captain," I said simply.

"She has extensive experience in the Traverse."

"Mostly pirate suppression," I clarified.

"She was at Torfan."

I added nothing to this.

Udina paused and continued. "She also was part of the pilot exchange program with Armali a few years ago. The idea was to engender understanding with the asari. As I understand it both militaries considered it a chance to learn one another's protocols and tactics for better integration when operating together."

That was true, of course. I had done a six month tour with an Armali commando squad operating on the fringes of asari space. "Team 4" the Alliance called it, and it had been "Team 4" the entire time we operated together – both sides held their secrets, even if it was the proper designation of one of your most elite military units.

It actually had been something of a personal success though. The ladies had politely expressed reservations through the proper channels, but had been a touch more hostile when I arrived. They'd read everything they could find on me personally, and in those first few minutes everything from my age – only 25 at the time – to my training was brought up. One girl, a young maiden just making her own bones with the team, had complained loudly about my education. I had gone to Boston College on the Alliance's dime and been a triple threat – dancing, singing, and violin. That's when the team commander had stepped in and given me a chance to win some favor. The next thing I knew I was standing on my footlocker singing an entire asari commando squad a rendition of "Danny Boy." I won some points, and over the course of six months I had made a few friends and earned my place. I walked away with a new respect for the asari and a better understanding of them then most humans were afforded.

"You're thinking about Matriarch Benezia," Anderson said.

"Actually, I'm thinking about her daughter," Udina said.

I glanced at him and knitted my brow.

"I read your reports about working with the asari, Commander." He again turned his gaze towards me, and then scratched his chin thoughtfully as he gazed back towards Anderson. "Benezia has a single daughter, a prothean expert by the name of Liara T'Soni."

"A prothean expert?' Anderson was alarmed, but I didn't hear him.

I did know Liara T'Soni, though not well. During my tour with the asari we regularly checked in with several far flung scientific teams and individuals along our patrol route. Almost always by radio. One of those working alone had been a prothean archaeologist by the name of Liara T'Soni, and once she had not responded. We investigated, but she was fine, of course. Simply a broken radio she had absently neglected. We fixed it, and she fed us, though I think that was mostly because of me. The Liara I remembered was a soft-spoken and shy individual, but gracious and bright. I was the first human she had met, and I admit to feeling a bit put on the spot - though that clearly wasn't her intention. Still, I had liked her well enough, and I couldn't see her being involved in any of this.

"I don't see Dr. T'Soni having anything to do with all any of this," I said, voicing my opinion aloud.

"You met her?" Anderson regarded me with a cocked eyebrow and I nodded.

"She wasn't putting off any bad vibes." I put my tongue in my cheek and thought for a second. "Nice woman, very curious."

"I could see how Dr. T'Soni could fit into this, either way. Your reports on her would be a great help, Commander."

I grinned in agreement just as Udina interjected. "I'll do you one better, Captain," he said. "I'm sending Costigan with Shepard."

I sat up and Anderson snorted.

"Out of the question!" he said.

"No, it isn't," Udina shot back. "Shepard is a loose cannon who could make a delicate situation worse! I want someone… predictable on board."

"You want a spy!" Anderson yelled.

I felt color rise in my cheeks. "With all due respect sir, I am no one's stool pigeon."

"Well what about that?" He pointed at the cane between my legs.

I flashed him a hard grin. "Batarian pirate took a swing at my knee with a length of pipe." I paused, and he stared at me as if to urge me to continue. "I took it away from him and beat the shit out of him."

"Still, you're not fit for duty?"

I frowned. "Not combat, no. Six more months of rehab."

"She doesn't need to go into combat," Udina said icily. "The Normandy will need a new executive officer. We both know Shepard will work ground side when necessary."

"Pressly," Anderson said defiantly.

"Forget Pressly. I want someone who will report back to me."

Anderson scowled and I stood up, my knee complaining only slightly. "So, how about this?" I asked. "I'll report back, but Shepard and Anderson gets a copy of anything I send."

Anderson's face lightened and he shrugged.

"I don't like that at all, Commander," Udina said.

"The alternative, Ambassador, is that Captain Anderson snarls my appointment up in red tape and the Normandy launches without me aboard anyway."

"And I would," Anderson added.

I met his statement with a half-hearted shrug in Udina's direction. He exhaled through his teeth in exasperation.

"That could work, I suppose. I don't like it, though."

It was my turn to shrug.

"Alright, fine," Anderson said, pointing at me. "You have three hours. I also want Dr. Chakwas, the Normandy's physician, to look at the knee before launch, too."

"Yes sir."

"We should meet with Shepard at the Normandy, Captain," Udina said.

"Helluva thing," Anderson replied, shaking his head. "Be aboard when they launch, Commander, or get left behind. I don't care how much of a fit Udina throws, you're not delaying them."

I chuckled dryly and smiled thinly as they left. I spared a glance over the rail of Udina's office at the manicured lawns and lake of the Citadel's Presidium. I wanted a moment for clarity, but it wasn't even close to the beach.


End file.
